I have to let go of everything I ever wanted.

The faces I thought would stay,

the dreams I thought were mine,

the moments I replay at night.

They slip away quietly,

like water running through my hands,

leaving only the ache

of almost having them.

And yet, in the emptiness,

I learn something new,

that strength is not in holding,

but in opening my palms

and watching the pieces drift.

Because sometimes,

the only way to keep moving

is to release what I cannot keep,

and trust that the space left behind

will one day bloom again.